


celestial bodies

by onidayo



Series: celestial bodies [1]
Category: Block B, Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barebacking, M/M, OH MY GOD SO MUCH PINING, Pining, Porn with Feelings, The Author Regrets Everything, ceo!jiho, exotic dancer!daniel, jiho is sad and horny, kyung tries to be a good friend, minhyuk is a terrible enabler, mutually beneficial relationship, or do i, sugar baby/sugar daddy dynamics, wanna one legal line as a greek chorus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 15:38:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onidayo/pseuds/onidayo
Summary: 「"the radio aches a little tune that tells the story of what the night is thinking.it's thinking of love." (- richard siken, little beast)」jiho finds the answer to his longing, between neon lights and the hands of a beautiful boy.





	celestial bodies

 

> _ << He could build a city. Has a certain capacity. _
> 
>  
> 
> _There’s a niche in his chest_
> 
>  
> 
> _where a heart would fit perfectly_
> 
>  
> 
> _and he thinks if he could just maneuver one into place –_
> 
>  
> 
> _well then, game over. >> _

  


Woo Jiho is 26 years old, and he’s pretty sure he’s having his quarter-life crisis.

 

Everything seemed simpler just an hour ago, before Minhyuk had decided to drag him to his favorite “boys club”, something that used to have a very different meaning to him.

 

Yeah, everything was so much simpler before this.

 

Now he’s pinned to his seat, the leather sticking to his hands when he tries to move. Next to him, Minhyuk has a champagne glass and a lapful of boy, and in front of him, up on the brightly lit stage, there’s the most devilishly beautiful creature Jiho has ever seen.

 

Try as he might, Jiho can’t tear his eyes away from the way the boy’s body moves, languid rolls of his hips making Jiho’s heart rate spike. The shirt he’s wearing is white and wet and leaves very little to the imagination, and when he sinks to his knees, his back against the pole and his arm raised above his head, Jiho can make out the muscles of his stomach, how they stretch and tense with every movement.

 

He’s beautiful and Jiho is powerless, eyes fixed on the boy’s figure until he disappears when the lights go dim.

  


_  


 

“Dude!” Jaehwan bounces into the room last, red marks blooming across his neck and collarbones. He barely takes time to sit and catch his breath before he calls Daniel’s attention again. “Did you see who was checking you out?”

 

It takes Daniel thirty more seconds than he’d like to peel the latex all the way off his legs, even with Jisung’s help, so he decides to entertain Jaehwan in the meantime. ‘Hmm?”

 

“Woo fucking Jiho! Like, seriously, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.” Jaehwan leans back in his chair, kicks his shoes off. “I’m pretty sure he was about to drool on himself.”

  


Daniel snorts. “Can you blame him?”

 

“Oh come on.” Minhyun’s voice echoes from the back of the room, and Jaehwan shrieks. “Jae, I’m surprised you saw anything at all when Mr Lee was almost eating you alive.”

 

Jaehwan bats his lashes at him. “ _Minhyuk_ is the one who told me. He seemed very amused.”

 

He’s met with a chorus of boos and cheers from the other boys, some even sticking their heads out from behind the clothing rail to emphasize the point, but simply sticks his tongue out before turning his attention back to Daniel.

 

“You know who he is, right?”

 

Daniel pretends to look for something in his bag to avoid the sheer weight of Jaehwan’s gaze. “Sure. Heard of him.”

 

It was hard not to. Everyone knows who Woo Jiho, the country’s premier music producer and youngest self-made billionaire, is. Even with how detached he tries to be in this job, Daniel had noticed him too, sinking into one of the VIP seats like it was his first ever night out, sweat glistening in the hollow of his throat. Maybe he’d slid to the floor a little closer to that particular seat for a reason, bared more skin than he usually would at that point of the night, just to watch Jiho squirm.

 

He’s not used to having the upper hand in life, but here in this club, Daniel always enjoys having someone that powerful at his mercy.

 

“You have to make him your regular.” Jaehwan quips from where he’s bent in half, head nearly upside down as he’s reaching for the zipper of the absurdly pink boots he’s slipping on. “Secure the bag, y’know?”

 

Daniel shakes his head, “I’ll think about it.”

 

Thankfully, Seongwu walks into the changing room to give everyone the five-minute call before Jaehwan can insist, and they’re all too busy changing and stretching to pay any more attention to the matter, for now.

 

When Daniel peeks through the curtain as Jaehwan takes to the stage for the second half of the night, Woo Jiho’s seat is empty, and he’s gone.

  


___  
  


 

"So. You bailed the other night." Minhyuk points at Jiho with his chopsticks. "Was it that intense?"

 

Jiho insistently chews on a piece of grilled meat to avoid answering the question. He wasn't proud of it, not of the way he'd left with his tail between his legs as soon as the boy was off the stage, not of how he almost stumbled over the threshold and nearly ended up flat on his face on the rainy street.

 

"I was tired." he says sheepishly, staring at the disappearing foam on top of his beer glass.

 

He can tell from the look on Minhyuk's face that his friend isn't buying any of it. "I've seen you go three days without sleeping because you wanted to finish a track. You've done press tours in four countries in as many days and went right back to the studio after." He stops when Jiho winces, a laundry list of his sacrifices aired out for all to see. "All I'm saying is, club nights aren't usually what tire you out. It was barely midnight."

 

The issue with having friends you've known for so long is that they see right through you, even when you really wish they didn't. Jiho slumps against his chair, heart thumping awkwardly in his chest. “I had a lot on my mind.”

 

“I’d say you had exactly one thing on your mind,” Minhyuk tilts his head. “He’s something else, right?”

 

Of course Minhyuk would have an opinion. He’s enough of a regular at that club that the bouncer directed them straight to the VIP section, and that within a minute of being seated, they had the most expensive bottle on the table and Minhyuk’s favorite dancer with them. It’s not so much an issue with Jiho; Minhyuk had always been the life of the party even in their college days, a social butterfly if there ever was one. Jiho doesn’t think he’s ever been bad at making friends and connections, but he certainly hasn’t ever reached Minhyuk’s level, especially in places below the streets.

 

“He’s…” If Jiho’s honest, he has been searching for the right words for days. “Yeah. Sorry that I just left, I’m not sure what came over me.”

 

“I have a few ideas.” Minhyuk takes a sip of his beer and smirks. “You, my friend, need to get laid.”

 

Jiho nearly chokes on the breath he’s taking. “That’s not-”

 

“How long has it been? Since you’ve been with someone, _anyone_?”

 

As Minhyuk probably expected, Jiho’s mind goes blank. All his life for the past seven years, the entire time he’s been a functioning adult, work had been the only thing in his line of sight. He hadn’t purposely kept himself from other people, they just had never been on his mind. He’d mingled, sometimes, at release parties and official events, flirted even, wandering hands in the back of limousines and in pristine hotel rooms, brief moments of heat that left him feeling less alone, not quite lonely anymore.

 

He’s never pursued any of them, and he’s not sure why.

 

“I don’t remember.” Jiho mutters, pushing a burnt piece of meat around on the hot plate. “Don’t have-”

 

“Time? Bullshit.”

 

Ah. Here’s that infamous Minhyuk touch.

 

“You could have time, if you made it.” Minhyuk scoffs, unable to sugar coat anything even if he tried. “I know you love your job, but it doesn’t have to consume your every waking hour.”

 

Maybe not. But if he works, if he keeps on his path, Jiho doesn’t have to think about how empty his bed is every night.

 

“Does it really matter?” he blurts out, unable to figure out how to get out of the conversation. “I’m fine. It’s fine. That was just… call it a moment of weakness, I guess.”

 

The lie is so blatant that he doesn’t even believe himself.

 

Minhyuk raises an eyebrow at him. “You know, for someone who works in music, your life is surprisingly one note.”

 

“Ouch.” Jiho deadpans, tries to down as much of his beer as possible without taking a breath. Maybe the buzz will make the brutal honesty hurt less.

 

A waiter passes by and Minhyuk calls for the bill. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of,” he says, resting an arm on the back of his chair. His eyes survey the entire restaurant, an air of comfort and confidence on his face. “Everyone has an itch to scratch, right? You’ve got nothing to lose.”

 

Put  that way, there’s really no flaw in his argument.

  


___

 

_ << It should be enough. To make something _

_  
beautiful should be enough. It isn’t. It should be. >> _

  


When the manager passes by, a sinewy boy who can’t be much older than the ones on stage, Jiho feels a rush of adrenaline going to his head. That’s the only way he can think of to explain the way he pushes himself to his feet, grabs the manager’s arm before he can get away.

 

“Sir, what can I do for you?”

 

Jiho gulps. He knows he needs to do this before he can chicken out, but words get mangled in his throat. “Can I- Do you have private rooms?”

 

Realization dawns on the manager’s face, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ah. Yes, we do. Who would you like to see?”

 

It’s so easy and Jiho hadn’t expected it. He stays frozen in place for a second, the bass throbbing in his ears. Slowly, silently, like he’s trying not to go back on his words, he points at the stage where the boy is bowing deeply, smiling at the customers while he collects the bills left on the edge.

 

“Sure.” The manager bows his head curtly. “Please wait here, sir, I’ll be right back.”

 

Jiho isn’t sure he could do anything but. His feet feel like they’re glued to the floor, and every minute that passes draws him closer to the point of no return.

 

In a way, he feels like he reached it already when he walked in the door, eyes wildly searching  before he realizes the boy has surely gone backstage. If Jiho was anymore of a coward he’d probably leave as soon as he feels his heartbeat getting faster, run away from his feelings again like he’s become an expert at it. But if he doesn’t do this now, he’ll never be able to live with the thoughts that race through his head night and day, of a beautiful boy and a blinding light, a vision that keeps him on edge.

 

If he doesn’t do this now, all he’ll have to show for himself are empty hands and a clouded mind, because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the boy even long enough to wonder what it means, that he’s ever-present in Jiho’s mind like this. Maybe it’s the shock of that night, the way the room had seemed to spin out of control, and maybe it’s just that Jiho is a simple man with simple needs and a complicated way of dealing with them.

  


When the manager returns, he’s got a clipboard under his arm and beckons Jiho closer, through a hidden door and down a neon lit corridor, a row of doors leading to undoubtedly as many rooms as there were boys on the stage tonight.

 

“Right this way, please.” he sounds like he’s said the phrase at least ten times tonight alone, blank professionalism written across his features.

 

The further down the corridor they go, the tighter Jiho’s throat gets, until they stop in front of the second to last door on the left and he has to physically force himself to breathe. The manager slips a paper from his clipboard into the slot on the door and bows again.

 

“There is a limit of fifteen minutes, I will come collect you both when time is up. We hope you enjoy your experience.”

 

He opens the door to let Jiho in, and then he’s gone, like he vanished into thin air. If Jiho focused he thinks he can hear the sound of footsteps getting farther and farther, and the music from the main room, making the walls vibrate. For now, he chooses to simply focus on putting one foot in front of the other, walking into the room and taking in the leather armchair against the far wall, the bottle of champagne cooling in a bowl on a glass table, the novelty piece of art that serves as innocuous decor, to make this seem like it’s not as removed from reality as it feels.

 

Jiho isn’t left with much time to admire the setting. He’s barely taken off his coat before there’s someone at the door, and Jiho turns around to find the boy there, toweling his hair off and looking straight through Jiho, an inviting smile on his lips.

 

“Hey there, stranger.”

 

The shirt he’s wearing is too big and it’s sliding off one shoulder, revealing the dip of his collarbone. He closes the door quietly, turns the lock and giggles when Jiho starts at the sight.

 

“Standard procedure. Wouldn’t want anyone to bother us, right?”

 

Jiho inhales as deep as he can, even if the oxygen seems to get stuck somewhere between his lungs and his brain. “Yeah. Yes, I mean-”

 

“Relax.” The boy walks towards him, reaches a hand out to push Jiho down into the chair.

 

The breath is knocked out of Jiho’s lungs right then, in the second between his knees hitting the edge of the chair and the boy’s own trapping him there, towering over him. It’s only then that Jiho notices the music, softer and slower than the one in the main room, a note of anguish in the way the synth rises up in counterpoint with the rhythm. He supposes it fits the mood quite right, when the boy begins swaying in time, eyes half-lidded, his gaze falling over Jiho like night.

 

Jiho wonders if the boy can tell how new all of this is for him. If he does, he doesn’t say a word about it.

 

"You're allowed to touch, you know," the boy whispers, so close to the shell of Jiho's ear that it makes shivers run through his entire body.

 

As if to demonstrate his point, he grabs Jiho's hands where they're limp at his side and slides them over to his back, in rhythm with the motions of body. Jiho feels the muscles there, moving under the boy's skin, and he feels like he's about to go crazy from the thrill of it all.

 

When Jiho allows his hands to roam further up, the boy chuckles. "Most people usually go lower," he says, nips at Jiho's earlobe. "But you do you, big man."

 

Jiho keeps his hands where they are, pushing the boy's shirt up. He knows that if he looks down, he'll see more skin than he probably can handle, sweaty and shiny under the neon lights, a vision in purples and pinks and blues. It's too much right now, when the boy is grinding tight, shameless circles down into Jiho's lap. It's too much and yet, there's something opening up in Jiho's gut that wants more, wants the boy to swallow him whole and spit him out a better person than before.

 

“It’s my first time… doing something like this,” Jiho blurts out. It’s probably obvious, he thinks, with the way his hands tremble even when they’re pressed against the boy’s back.

 

As if on cue, in time with the change of pace in the music, the boy laughs. “I figured.” He leans back, trails a finger down Jiho’s chest, catching on each of the buttons on his shirt. “I’m honored.”

 

Something Jiho does betrays the need settling in his mind, a press of his fingers against the boy’s spine, and soon he’s back closer than before, arms outstretched over the back of the chair, a golden cage that Jiho feels strangely comfortable in.

  


It isn't so much that Jiho doesn't know what to do with himself, it's that the boy clearly knows better, maybe even best, so Jiho lets him direct the pace, lets things fall into place like puzzle pieces he’s spent a long time searching for.

 

He's forgotten all about the music, the sound of his own heartbeat deafening in his ears as the boy rolls his hips down and arches his back, controlled movements that make Jiho wonder how many men have fallen to them before him. He's forgotten all about the timer, feels like the minutes are blurring into each other the closer the boy gets to him, pushing himself up on his knees, the fluid fabric of his shirt barely betraying the sharp angles of his body.

 

"I have to admit," the boy says, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand, the other still firmly keeping Jiho in his place. "I'm glad to be your first time."

 

Oh?

 

The boy traces a finger down the side of Jiho’s face and he smiles, content. "It's been a while since someone's looked at me like this." He looks holy in the neon light.

 

Jiho wonders what he means, but fears that it would be rude to ask. He's not even sure they should be talking like this, forgot to read over the guidelines if there even are any, didn't think to get any tips from Minhyuk. Actually, he thinks, if Minhyuk was here, he'd probably be giving Jiho all sorts of seedy advice, egging him to go further than the way his hands are splayed across the boy's back, feeling the movements of his bones beneath smooth, unmarred skin. There's a human in there, surely, that's how anyone should be looking at him.

 

He keeps his eyes alert, watching and memorizing every inch of the boy that he can see in the shadows, the curve of his lips as he smiles, the line of his neck, bared and so inviting, the way his hair falls back in front of his eyes no matter what he tries. When the boy moves, Jiho takes in the shape of his shoulders, how they obscure the door and almost make him believe that there's no end to this.

 

"I haven't ever seen someone like you." Jiho hears how his own voice nearly breaks, trying to find the right words. It's only fair that he gives it a fair shot. "You're like a dream come true."

 

In a way, there's nothing better he could say. It's been so long since Jiho's felt such a pure thrill, felt like his body is reacting faster than his brain, more strongly than he can anticipate. He's used to meeting new people, seeing them come and go in his conference room, in his office, in over-decorated ballrooms made to please. But all these people come and go like they never existed, so few of them ever coming back, all of them singing the same dishonest tune that Jiho knows by heart and never wants to hear again.

 

There's never anyone anymore that invades his thoughts and his deepest desires the way the boy has, and if he were any younger, perhaps less jaded than he often feels, he'd have no hesitation letting himself drown in it entirely.

 

He knows there's a truth behind the neons that he wants to find out- about himself, and about the boy, and about why he threw away all of his better instincts to be here tonight.

 

"Hey." The boy's voice comes from far away, behind the bass and the haze Jiho has worked himself into. "You still with me?"

 

For a moment, Jiho isn't sure. All he knows is that the boy shifts above him, and then there's fire catching in his stomach, lighting a fuse.

 

"Can I kiss you?" Jiho’s lips move faster than his brain, and the boy giggles near the slope where Jiho's neck meets his shoulder.

 

"Sure." he says, lifting his head up. When his eyes meet Jiho's, they're dark with hunger.

 

It's not like how Jiho remembers it. It's certainly different than that time on Shin Hyoseob's couch, in 11th grade, when they'd scrambled off of each other as they'd heard a key turn in the front door lock (Jiho wonders even now if Hyoseob remembers the moment as vividly as he does). It's nothing like how chaste Kyung had been at their graduation, when they both realized it could never work out. Jiho wonders for a moment, if the boy is kissing him like that because he's being paid for it, but the thought vanishes the moment he feels his mouth being pried open, a wet pink tongue sliding against his own. A whine dies at the back of his throat when the boy slides a hand in his hair and pulls, and Jiho just holds him there, forgets that the room they're in even exists.

 

Jiho's vision is blurry for a second when the boy pulls away.

 

"Time's almost up," the boy whispers, too close for comfort. He licks his lips and grins, devilish and still so beautiful even in his obscenity, lights carving out shadows on his face and making him look like some romanesque painting.

 

The clock on the opposite wall ticks mercilessly, and Jiho lets his hands slide all the way to the boy's waist to hold him even for just a minute more. "I just realized, I don't even know your name," he mumbles, embarrassed with himself that he didn't even learn that simple yet so vital piece of information.

 

The boy scoffs a little, and Jiho tries to figure out if he's mocking him or simply surprised that the issue came up.

 

"Most people don't think to ask."

 

Something about that makes Jiho click, and he feels upset for a reason he can't quite pinpoint.

 

"Will you tell me?"

 

The minute ticks over and someone knocks at the door, but neither of them move. Jiho looks up at the boy, hairs raising on the back of his neck as he lies in wait.

 

The boy smiles and it's earnest this time, a finger tipping Jiho's chin up.

 

"It's Daniel," he says, and then he lays another kiss on Jiho's lips. "Don't wear it out."

  


___  


 

The last of the producers leaves the conference room right as Jiho's mind starts to wander, his gaze lost on the construction site outside. He hasn't minded the noise as much as his colleagues, the mechanical whirring of the equipment transforming into synth samples when he gets home and sits at his old sound desk, the one he's carried from college and that Minhyuk keeps telling him looks awfully out of place in his luxury apartment.

 

Jiho never listens to him on that front, at least.

 

"Are you going to sit here until tomorrow's meeting?" Kyung punches his shoulder and Jiho almost faceplants on the table.

 

When he looks up he finds his friend looking passably amused, hair tousled the way it always is when he comes back from a songwriting session.

 

"We're still getting lunch later, right? I need to show you this demo I got from this kid, absolutely brilliant. Has to be seen to be believed."

 

Pushing himself to his feet is more of an ordeal than Jiho anticipated, and he barely catches himself on the table. "Yes. Sure. Please, bring it, I just, I really need a nap right now."

 

"Oh dear. What happened to actually make you want to sleep?" Kyung squints at him like he's trying to figure out if Jiho ate the last of his cookies. "Ah. The club. The boy. Right. Honestly, I don't know if I should be happy you're going out again, or worried that you've found yet another reason to not sleep at normal human hours."

 

Jiho groans. He's never been proud of his non-existent sleep schedule, sure, but Kyung's age old enjoyment for reminding him of his bad habits is another thing entirely, the nagging getting to him now in a way it hasn't before. He's thankful for the concern, and knows Kyung is probably, definitely right, but he also knows he can’t break out of it that easily.

 

"It's been a week, I'll be fine. Just had a lot on my plate with the new manufacturer."

 

Kyung sighs. "Exactly. You should enjoy the fact that it's almost signed and done."

 

He is. That's one less thing to worry about, although Jiho realizes it will just free up more of his brainspace for Daniel to inhabit. He hadn't been able to truly focus on anything else at all, going through the motions until he managed to find an hour or two to lock himself in the studio, music drowning out his thoughts and giving him a bit of respite from the longing. It's probably pathetic to be this far gone already, and he tries to feel better about it by telling himself it's because he isn't used to this, to any of these feelings and sensations, but as time passes and he's drawn back again, Jiho is forced to realize the extent of his infatuation.

 

There’s a pressure on his shoulders that nothing seems to lift except for when he’s in the room, the way Daniel has of breaking him down to his barest parts making Jiho wonder if it could really be that simple. In those moments he doesn’t have to think, doesn’t have to be who people only see him as. Surrendering himself to Daniel’s touch had been the easiest thing he’s done in a long while.

 

"I'll need to decompress." He chooses the first excuse that comes to mind, because he knows Kyung won't buy it anyway.

 

“You’re going back tonight?” Kyung inquires, and the look on his face is puzzling, even to Jiho. There haven’t been many times when he hasn’t been able to read Kyung, and this one feels even worse than before, somehow.

 

“Maybe. If I manage to finish drafting this contract before I fall asleep at my desk.” Jiho tries to stay reasonable, even if he knows his steps will take him back, over and over again.

 

He feels like a lost traveler who’s finally found a clearing and a well to rest his weary head and revive his dried up soul. The fact that it’s a nightclub on the underside of the city and that he’s buying his respite isn’t lost on Jiho, but money’s no object to him and it’s a small price to pay to be able to feel like a person again.

 

Kyung sighs, clasps a firm hand on Jiho’s shoulder. “As your best friend since childhood, I’m morally obligated to tell you this might be a terrible idea.”

 

“Since when do you care about morality?” Jiho feels almost offended.

 

An elephant passes through the room.

 

“I care about you. You’ve never been the best at...” He brushes some dust off of Jiho’s lapel. “Feelings.” There’s the barest hint of bitterness in his voice, a reminder that they were never able to get past that hurdle for themselves, and how it was almost all Jiho’s fault, with his one-track mind and his busy hands.

 

Jiho doesn’t have time to ask more questions before Kyung disappears down the hallway to his office. He waddles into his own, still as pitiful as he’s ever felt.

 

If he sees Daniel when he closes his eyes, no one needs to know.

  
  


___

 

_ << I wanted to be wanted, and he was very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, _

 

_and only felt good while moving. >> _

  


Jiho goes back every week, like clockwork.

 

He doesn't tell anyone when he leaves the office, gets into his car as quietly as possible, and by the third week, his driver knows the route to the club like the back of his hand, taking side streets and rounding corners to let Jiho prepare himself without risking running into acquaintances or journalists.

 

The second time, Daniel sees him from the stage and winks before he disappears, and Jiho has to ask the sky for forgiveness when his eyes trail after Daniel, his throat getting tight. He gets a double martini directly from the bartender, and by the third one he's worked up the courage to ask what Daniel's usual order is - peach syrup mojito, sweet and sour and so characteristic Jiho almost thinks he could have guessed it himself. He has one served up to the changing room and when he sees Daniel later, in their room, Jiho can still taste the drink on his lips.

 

It's also that time that Jiho has to excuse himself to the bathroom after Daniel leaves, his cheeks on fire, blood pumping in every direction, and he handles himself with just about as much grace and dignity as he'd done in the relative privacy of his high school bedroom. Thankfully, his driver doesn't ask any question when Jiho slouches in the backseat and vaguely gestures that he'd like to go home.

 

In the meantime, Jiho signs someone new - Kyung really has an eye for talent and he was right, the kid is going places fast - and there's a week where he just doesn't find the time, try as he might.

 

He lies awake in bed, unable to find sleep on the eve of the contract signing press conference, and imagines, despite himself, how much nicer it would be if someone were lying there with him. He's never yearned for it the way he does now, lost in the space between the height of his dreams and the reality of his life. Maybe Minhyuk was right. He's never given himself the time for this, and now that he wants it so badly, Jiho can't quite figure out how it's supposed to work. He doesn't know what he's feeling, if any of it is real, if he's even allowed to let this take root and grow inside himself. It feels so ridiculous, holding on to paid affection, letting himself believe that there's more to it than what Daniel is advertising. It still doesn't stop Jiho from getting by on the promise of someone loving him for fifteen minutes a week.

 

The third time, he gets to the club earlier than usual, and the manager - Jiho finally learns that his name is Seongwu, and makes a note to thank him in some way for everything he's done so far - informs him that Daniel will only be here after midnight, when he's done studying for his impending exams. Jiho feels a pang of guilt in his stomach that he's never asked Daniel what he does outside of these walls, berates himself for his own negligence. Whenever they're together, when Daniel is touching him, kissing him, he lets Jiho forget about the stress of his job and his status, forget that there are people waiting on his every word, watching his every move. In that moment, when Seongwu disappears again as someone calls him to the back, Jiho is left standing at the bar, alone with the realization that Daniel has something like that too, responsibilities and a path to take, supporting himself any way he can.

 

It's something Jiho can relate to, maybe more than anything, and he takes great care to leave Daniel an extra tip every time after that, just between the two of them, slipped into the back pocket of Daniel's jeans. If it's all he can do, Jiho only hopes it's enough.

 

That night, they finally open the bottle of champagne. It’s a perilous adventure, and Daniel has to clamber down Jiho’s lap for an unfortunate moment to ensure neither of them loses an eye, but they still manage to drink to each other. Fifteen minutes is so little but Jiho still gets to learn, that Daniel studies history, that he’s got a younger brother named Daehwi, and the way his eyes shine when he speaks about both makes Jiho believe in the simple things again.

 

"Does your brother know?" Jiho asks tentatively between sips. "About... This ?" he gestures to the room, and then to himself, and then finally, to Daniel.

 

Daniel touches his glass to his lips before he speaks. "He likes to pretend that I don't know that he knows."

 

A thought flashes in Daniel's eyes, and Jiho is on the edge of his comfort zone wondering if he should try to find out more.

 

Instead he pours himself another drink, watches as it swirls around in the glass before settling, foam disappearing on the surface. "I'm sure he's happy with everything you do for him."

 

That's the only thing that feels appropriate to say, when he feels like he's already pried into Daniel's life enough as it is.

 

"Why do you care?" Daniel raises an eyebrow, finger wiping a drop of champagne away from the corner of his mouth.

 

I care about you, Jiho wants to say. He settles for kissing Daniel instead, feels the remains of bubbles on his lips and gold on his tongue.

 

There’s a special theme night, after Jiho has stopped counting the days, and he actually finds himself enjoying the time between when he sets foot into the club and the time he’s called forward and brought to the room again. It’s a drag show and the emcee, who he’s pretty sure is Minhyuk’s favorite dolled up in a red vinyl dress, gives him a thumbs up and sits with him as he lipsyncs the song that’s blaring through the speakers. It’s a track that Jiho produced, though he doesn’t wonder if people know, and that’s probably why he lets himself be goaded into singing along. He’s still humming it later that night when Daniel’s hands are under his shirt, warm palms and smooth fingertips finding parts of him that Jiho hadn’t even known could feel like this.

 

As time goes by, when Jiho shows up, Seongwu nods at him when he sees him come in. Jiho still sits in the VIP section, a little off to the side, watches Daniel come on stage like it's the first time every time. Daniel doesn't favor him, not in these moments, and Jiho feels like he has to compete with all the other men in the room just for a look. It feels like a wild chase, Daniel occupying every inch of the stage and every one of Jiho's thoughts, complete confidence in the face of ever-growing need and hunger.

 

It always changes when Jiho's in the room, and Daniel is there with him, their bodies aligning like they've learned how to. It’s an easy back and forth, Daniel having to contend with the fact that Jiho gets bolder, braver even as time goes by, and now he enjoys the sound of Daniel's giggles whenever his hands roam further south, squeeze Daniel's ass when they kiss. It's about as nice as Daniel had promised him it would be, and then it's better, because Daniel is the most beautiful thing Jiho's ever touched and the fact that he'll probably never have the guts to tell him doesn't seem so bad anymore.

  


___

  


When Seongwu walks into the changing room, he’s got an accusatory expression, eyebrow immediately raising in Daniel’s direction.

 

“What the hell did you do to Woo Jiho?”

 

Daniel spits out the lemonade he’s drinking, his lip nearly catching on the lid of the can. “Only my best customer service! You know me man, come on.”

 

If Jisung really does roll his eyes next to him, Daniel pretends not to notice it.

 

Seongwu shakes his head, hand reaching deep into his pocket. Like someone rang for him, Jaehwan peeks from behind the clothing rail, ready as ever to stick his nose in everyone’s business.

 

“He’s here tonight.” Seongwu announces solemnly. “And he brought this.”

 

He produces a small, smooth black velvet box, slim with fine golden edges, and the entire room _ooh_ s and _aah_ s, gathering around Daniel like a flock of magpies. Daniel holds a hand out to Seongwu, who gives him the box with a defeated look.

 

“You’ve done it,” Seongwu sighs. “Seems like you’ve hit the jackpot.”

 

Daniel runs the tips of his fingers over the box, feels the fabric and the softened edges. It feels very characteristic, somehow, that Jiho would choose something like this.

 

“Okay, you diva, open it already.” Minhyun calls, trying to restrain Jaehwan who is visibly more excited to find out what’s inside than even Daniel is.

 

The box comes open with a muted sound, and Daniel’s breath catches in his throat. Inside, on a small velvet cushion, there’s a pair of earrings, delicate silver chains holding two tiny, finely molded knives, a gemstone encrusted in the handle of each one. They look like a designer piece, something Jiho probably found at a jewelry store most people can’t even dream of setting foot in.

 

He hasn’t told anyone about the money Jiho gives him under the table, most of it going to his college fund and Daehwi’s theater practice, some of it reluctantly used to fix their failing water pipes and the window some kids broke while playing ball outside. They don’t need to know, and he doesn’t need to think about it more than he already does.

 

The earrings look so delicate that Daniel hesitates to even touch them at first, until Jaehwan lightly smacks him upside the head. “My goodness. You absolute fucking legend, you…”

 

“Looks like someone got himself a benefactor,” Minhyun croaks, turning back to the mirror. “What’s it like to live the high life?”

 

Because he knows that’s just how Minhyun is, Daniel doesn’t pick up on the tone. “Pretty great, you should try it,” he quips, and then turns to Seongwu. “Ask Mr. Woo if I’ll be seeing him later? In private?”

 

He tilts his head and pouts, gives Seongwu nowhere to retreat. Eventually the manager pinches the bridge of his nose and groans, defeated.

 

“I feel like you already know the answer.”

 

Daniel nods. He hopes so, at least.

 

Seongwu looks like he needs an extended vacation. “Right. I’ll make sure to tell him. And you make sure to be on your best behavior.”

 

“I always am!” Daniel yelps, feigning offense, when Seongwu turns on his heels and walks out of the room.

 

The excitement doesn’t drop when he’s gone, but Daniel manages to shut it out for a moment, transfixed by Jiho’s gift. He runs the pad of his thumb over the chains, feels how delicately they were crafted and wonders if it means that Jiho thought of him when he was out and about. He can’t quite pinpoint the feeling it gives him, but the idea settles warm and deep between his ribs.

 

"Okay, enough meddling." Jisung claps his hands twice, and most of the boys scramble back to their corners to get ready. "Jaehwan, that means you too."

 

Jaehwan looks like a kicked puppy for about a second and a half, and he walks back to the wardrobe, deep in thought.

 

Satisfied with the effect, Jisung walks over to Daniel, sits with him as he pulls his shirt over his head. “That’s quite a fish you caught.”

 

“You have no idea,” Daniel mutters, examining himself in the mirror. “He’s really… He’s different, man. I’m not even sure I could explain how, but it’s not like with the others.”

 

As grateful as he is for the material things, Daniel has to admit what he likes most about Jiho is the way the man looks at him, like he’s the only person he’s ever touched, like Daniel is something more than he’s always assumed himself to be. He isn’t used to seeing himself through someone else’s eyes like this, and at this rate, he thinks he could very happily get used to it.

 

“In this job, they always think they’re different.” There’s no underlying tone to what Jisung says, and Daniel listens. “The fact that it’s you who thinks it means that for once, it’s probably true.”

 

Daniel really wants it to be.

 

“You should wear those tonight. For him. Only feels right.” Jisung points at the box, sitting on Daniel’s side of the table.

 

There’s a loud noise coming from the other side of the room, Jaehwan frantically looking through the clothing rail. “And this!” he brandishes a black hoodie, the lower half cut off and two leather straps sewn to the hem, some novelty piece Daniel had forgotten was even there. “Show him that he’s getting his money’s worth.”

 

Even Jisung nods to that. Daniel takes the hoodie from Jaehwan’s eager hands, tries to picture Jiho’s face later, when he sees Daniel dressed up and made up just for him.

 

It’s enough to put a spring in his step when he walks to the stage.

  
  


___

 

_ << this is the map of my heart, the landscape _

 

_after cruelty which is, of course, a garden, which is_

 

_a tenderness, which is a room, a lover saying Hold me_

 

_tight, it’s getting cold. >> _

  


Jiho’s been in the room for three unbearably long minutes, and the only thing he’s holding on to is that the clock hasn’t started ticking yet. As he wipes his already sweaty palms on his trousers, he thinks about how different the show from tonight had been, how the light had seemed to come from within Daniel instead of just reflecting off of him. It’s the best look on him, Jiho thinks, and the images replaying in his mind are enough to tide him over until the door clicks open.

 

He hasn’t been holding his breath, but Jiho’s heart feels weak and tight just the same.

 

As Daniel closes the door and stays with his back to it for a moment, smiling at the scene as he does, Jiho sees something glinting near his neck, blue light reflecting off of gemstone.

 

“You're wearing them,” he breathes out, still slightly uneasy about the whole thing. He wasn't sure how the present would be received, if it was even welcome in the first place.

 

Daniel fiddles with one of the earrings, makes the pendant swing near his skin. “I love them. Thank you.”

 

“I wasn't sure if it was allowed but,” Jiho squirms when Daniel takes a step towards him. Even after all these weeks, the effect hasn't worn off. “I saw them in the window and thought you needed to have them. They reminded me of you.”

 

The knives and the small, pure diamonds had caught his eye then, a pair of symbols that took him back to this room. The message seems to deeply amuse Daniel and he sways his hips as he walks, stopping right in front of Jiho, a breath away.

 

“Really.” He puts a hand on Jiho's where it's resting on the arm of the chair. “I'm happy you were thinking of me.”

 

The only reason why Jiho doesn't blurt out ‘I haven't stopped’ is because Daniel bends down to kiss him, shifting to sit in Jiho's lap, hands roaming his shoulders and neck. It's a lot to handle, all at once, when Jiho has barely gotten over the nerves from getting his present through to Daniel, but he's got no other choice than give himself up to it.

 

“Do you like this?” Daniel straightens up best he can, knees planted on either side of Jiho’s thighs. He gestures at the top he’s wearing, loose around his arms and cut around his midriff, leaving absolutely nothing to Jiho’s imagination anymore. “I picked it for you.”

 

Jiho’s honestly not sure if Daniel is good at sweet talk, or if he’s just incredibly weak to it. “You look beautiful.” He trails a finger along the line of Daniel’s waist. “You always look beautiful.”

 

Well, he did major in music production, not compliments. Jiho exhales, slowly, when he notices the straps tied to the waistband of Daniel’s pants, how they’re flush against his abs and seem like they might snap when Daniel moves, arches his back to grind down in Jiho’s lap. It’s overwhelming and Jiho lets him move, powerless, fingertips ghosting over Daniel’s skin and desperately trying to figure out where they want to go, where to touch first when all of him is so close.

 

It’s only when Daniel trails a hand down Jiho’s chest, undoing two buttons on his chest, that Jiho returns the favor, slips his fingers under the straps to pull Daniel closer. He’s never dreamed of doing this with anyone, never thought he had the time, or need, or even had it in him.

 

Daniel makes a pleased noise in the back of his throat, lets his head fall and his forehead bump against Jiho’s. “Well, look at you.” He smirks, and Jiho thinks he’s about to lose what remaining grip he still had on reality.

 

The only thing pulling him back is the bead of sweat rolling down the nape of his neck, down between his shoulder blades, a lone sensation that makes him realize how warm the room is, how worked up he’s become. None of it makes what he’s about to do any easier.

 

He lets a hand settles in the small of Daniel’s back, guiding the way his hips rise and fall in rhythm with the music. Jiho’s never heard this song before, not that he can remember.

 

Jiho has shaken the president’s hand and been in the same room as some of his idols, but somehow, he’s never felt this nervous before. "If I ask you to leave with me tonight," he starts, mind running a mile a minute. "What will you say?"

  
  
It takes Daniel a moment to process the information, eyes searching Jiho's face for a clue. Eventually he sighs, hand resting in the crook of Jiho's elbow. "What do you want me to say?"

  
  
Ah, of course. Even if it feels like the world has stopped for them, Jiho swallows his pride when he remembers this is still just a transaction for Daniel, that he probably has guys asking him this left and right. In a way, he understands. You get your coin any way you can- he'd learned that the hard way not so long ago. Still, there's an aching feeling in his chest, a silly desire to turn this into something that's about more than this room and the note the manager slips into his coat pocket at the end of the night. Maybe if he can get that across, with his mind halfway gone, Daniel will understand it too. 

  
"I want you..." he pauses, maybe not at the right time, to collect his thoughts. "To tell me yes or no. Whichever you decide. Whichever feels right."

  
  
Daniel's eyes go wide, two full moons in the dimmed light. "You are so weird." he chuckles, and then, he cups Jiho's face with both hands. "I like you. Unlike most of the men I usually deal with. You're... So pure, it's actually adorable."

 

There's no mockery in the way he says it, and the look on his face tells Jiho that Daniel is just as intrigued by whatever this is than he is. Behind him, the clock ticks forward and just as usual, there's a knock on the door.

  
  
Daniel disentangles himself from Jiho and calls, "Just a second!" before he winks and goes to answer. Jiho his glued to the chair, thoughts bursting in his mind, a slight feeling of panic arising at his question being left unanswered.

  
  
"Can I punch out early tonight?" Daniel asks, sing-song tone ringing in Jiho's ears.

  
  
Even from across the room Jiho can make out the manager's exasperated voice, and how he eventually gives in to the demand. "Nah, don't need a note to go." Daniel rocks back on his heels, waves his hand around. "This one's a special case."

  
  
Jiho feels red hot from the base of his neck to the tips of his ears. Daniel closes the door when the manager leaves, turns back to Jiho right before he can completely combust. "Which way to your car?”

  


___

 

The ride to Jiho’s place is quiet, save for the radio that the driver has on, behind the screen. Jiho keeps his hands in his lap and too much emptiness between himself and Daniel, like he’s not sure where the boundaries are now that they’ve left the only space they’ve ever known.

 

“You know,” Daniel tries, not looking at Jiho yet. “When we’re outside of the club, things are different.”

 

Jiho shifts in his seat. He wrings his hands, eyes fixed on a point somewhere far away on the street, and it’s only when Daniel lets his own hand wander to take Jiho’s that their gazes finally meet.

 

Daniel lets his head fall against the headrest. “Come closer.”

 

Thankfully, Jiho doesn’t need to be told twice. He lets Daniel link their fingers together, lifts their hands up to his face to kiss Daniel’s knuckles, one by one.

 

“I honestly don’t know what I would have done with myself if you’d said no,” Jiho mumbles, a nervous smile on his lips. “I was so afraid you’d think I’m a massive creep.”

 

In that moment, Daniel thinks Jiho is so lucky he doesn’t seem to know what being a creep actually involves.

 

“You’re not the first one to ask me,” Daniel simply says, because it’s a fact. “But you’re the first one I’ve said yes to.”

 

Jiho looks down at their hands. “I hope it’s not too much. The present, I mean, after everything…”

 

He’s still stuck in this mindset, and there’s something about how downcast he looks that almost looks like he feels guilty about it.

 

“I’m not doing this because I feel like I owe you.” Daniel feels the need to make things clear, because their situation isn’t easy, but he feels like it doesn’t have to be this difficult. “I’ll be honest, you’ve really, and I mean really helped me, these past weeks. I was late on my tuition payment, my place is falling apart, and the money, I mean… It fixed all of that.” He’s not used to spilling his guts like this, specific of having a job where everyone wants to hear the same things over and over again. “But really, every week, the thing I look forward to the most is the time I spend with you.”

 

Jiho’s hand tightens around his own, and Daniel holds him as the car pulls into a dark street.

 

“The first time we were together, you had no idea what to do, where to go... It was like you hadn’t been touched in years.” He still remembers how Jiho had been too polite, or maybe too afraid, to touch him. Most men don’t even have the courtesy to ask before they put their hands all over him, but Jiho had kept his to himself, waited for his turn to be called, waited to be shown the way. “And I don’t know why, and I won’t ask either. But I know every time you came back and you treated me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, it made me want to change that.”

 

Tires screech ever so slightly as the car comes to a halt, and the driver knocks on the screen to signal that they’ve arrived. Jiho lowers it halfway, signals for the driver to wait just a little while longer, a grateful nod of the head ending their silent conversation.

 

When he turns to Daniel, he’s got the most melancholic expression on his face that would be enough to break anyone’s heart. “I’m content with the time you give me. But I thought I’d regret it forever if I didn’t ask.”

 

As Jiho looks at him, Daniel thinks he probably would have regretted it too, wondered for a long time if Jiho ever wanted this.

 

“We have time on our side now.”

 

Without another word, because none are needed right now, Daniel lets Jiho take him by the hand again when they get out of the car, all the way into the elevator and up, up where there’s no timer and no restraints.

  


___

 

_ << We were in the gold room where everyone _

_finally gets what they want, so I said What do you_

 

_want, sweetheart? and you said Kiss me. Here I am_

 

_leaving you clues. I am singing now while Rome_

 

_burns. We are all just trying to be holy. >> _

 

  


For the first time since freshman year orientation, Jiho is actually thankful for Minhyuk’s sideways advice. If it weren’t for him, if it weren’t for the way he forced Jiho to take a good look at his life and at the choices he’d forgotten to make, maybe he wouldn’t be here right now, with Daniel’s arms around him and Daniel’s lips on his.

 

Granted, they’d barely given themselves the time to unlock the front door to Jiho’s apartment, and now he’s trying to maneuver the two of them towards the bedroom without losing a toe in the process - he really needs to get rid of some of this furniture - but it’s hard to concentrate on the route when Daniel keeps giggling between kisses, when Daniel is here in his space.

 

They have time now, so much of it, more than Jiho had ever thought they’d have, and yet he still feels the urgency, where it tugs at every part of him when Daniel finally lets him go, halfway through the living room.

 

“I can’t believe you’ve been living here by yourself.” Daniel takes a long look around, only stopping when he’s faced with the cityscape through the floor-to-ceiling window. He wraps his arms around himself, and Jiho moves to meet him, pulling Daniel into his own embrace. “It’s unfair, how lonely this life must feel sometimes.” His hand meets Jiho’s where it’s resting against his heart. “Let’s break you out of it.”

 

In the moment that it takes to lead Daniel to the bedroom, Jiho imagines a whole new number of futures where he doesn’t have to be as alone as he’d resigned himself to be. He has to shake his head to chase them away, resolves to not let himself get swept up in maybes, when the certainty in front of him is already so beautiful.

  
  


It’s a different place but the same familiar habits, Jiho settling against his pillows, looking up as Daniel straddles his thighs, one finger tipping Jiho’s chin up. “So we’re finally here.”

 

Jiho could close his eyes and just revel in this for the rest of the night, but even that wouldn’t let him escape the pull that he’s feeling.

 

“I want you so bad,” he says, voice rough, and he grabs Daniel by the waist, drags his hands down until they’re resting on top of Daniel’s thighs. “Since the moment I saw you.”

 

Night blurs outside and it’s just them now. “I know,” Daniel states, because it’s true. Jiho doesn’t try to pretend he’s ever been subtle about it.

 

Jiho used to think his love life was like a car crash with no passengers, an anomaly in the system of what should have been the perfect trajectory. Golden boy genius, or so they said, but he’d gotten lost along the way. Maybe he can steer the wheel back the right way and get himself back on the road.

 

The road is Daniel’s back, the way his spine feels under Jiho’s fingers as they kiss, slow and steady, the hunger in his gut just barely satiated when Daniel pulls away to look at him.

  
  
  


Anyone would probably regret spending so much on the shirt Jiho wore tonight, when Daniel hastily gets him out of it and throws it somewhere on the bed, maybe halfway across the floor. Truth is, Jiho himself couldn’t care less, not when he’s fumbling with the zipper of Daniel’s pants, or when Daniel is getting him out of his own, eager hands bumping against each other to get rid of the last physical barrier between them.

 

Jiho hears himself making a weird strangled noise when Daniel reaches for the hem of his own top to pull it off.

 

“Wait. No. Don’t…” he tries to clear his throat, and Daniel makes a terribly amused face at him. “Keep it on? Please?’

 

Daniel grins and he lets the fabric fall back over his chest, hem of the top brushing against his stomach. “Anything for you.”

 

To not get lost in the moment again, Jiho uses both hands to pull Daniel’s boxers down, watches the way the elastic and the fabric slide over his skin. Anyone else would probably find the view obscene, and Jiho sits there like a lost man of faith at the altar.

 

Hands are on him as soon as Daniel is bare in his grasp, and the younger man makes an appreciative noise when Jiho’s cock is freed from his own underwear, a whistle and a laugh enough to make the tip of Jiho’s ears turn red.

 

“Well, who needs fame and fortune, right?”

 

Jiho groans, hides his face in his hands. They’re taken away from him when Daniel needs to look at him, presses a kiss to the corner of Jiho’s mouth. “Relax.”

 

He’s used to having Daniel in his lap. What Jiho didn’t take into account when he pulls the boy closer is that they’re both naked, and their cocks are flush against each other, and the contact nearly drives him out of his skin.

 

“Daniel, please-” he starts when Daniel wraps a hand around the back of his neck, shifting against him as he does. “I can’t do this, I need you-”

 

“You have me,” Daniel says, still directing the pace.

 

Jiho's honestly not sure where he got the lube that sits in the last drawer of his bedside table. With some thought, Jiho figures it was probably part of some complimentary basket Minhyuk had sent to his office in his lifelong quest to embarrass him at every turn, and he leaves it at that when Daniel snatches the bottle from his hands and uncaps it without a second thought.

 

"Wanna do the honors?" He holds it out, wandering eyes trailing down to Jiho's hands. "Or should I show you?”

 

Strangely, Jiho has never felt so inept at making decisions in all the years of his adult life spent doing exactly that. There’s a part of him that’s aching to get this right, to start all over again and give everything back to Daniel tenfold. The other wants Daniel to show him how he wants to be touched, what makes him tick, how he looks when he unfolds in total comfort. If he stumbles over his own thoughts, it’s only because he isn’t sure how to ask.

 

“Go ahead.” he gulps, oxygen barely passing through anymore.

 

It feels like a rite of passage, watching as Daniel slicks his fingers with lube, how he braces himself before reaching between his legs, one, two knuckles going in as his breathing comes up short and staggered. Jiho holds him best he can, rubs small circles into Daniel’s hip with his thumb, unsure if there’s anything more he should do.

 

Two knuckles become two fingers in the span of minutes, Daniel smiling when he tests the stretch, and he smirks when he looks at Jiho through the hair that’s fallen in front of his face.

 

“Not yet.”

 

Jiho can’t help but chuckle at how brave he’s still trying to sound.

 

“All the time in the world, remember?”

 

Interrupting himself, Daniel whines when he folds a third finger inside himself, and Jiho’s cock twitches against his stomach at the sound, his body working faster than his brain. He wants to know how it feels, to get under Daniel’s skin, to be in the warm space of his body, to bridge the gap between them before he can slip away again.

  


When he thinks there isn’t a more erotic sight in the world than Daniel with four fingers plunged inside himself and his other hand braced on Jiho’s shoulder for support, Jiho finds himself confronted with his deepest fantasy. Daniel shifts and moans, eyes screwed shut for a moment before he slowly removes his fingers, and then he’s reaching for Jiho’s cock, smearing the leftover lube down the length of it. Jiho tenses up, eyes following Daniel’s every movement as he reaches for the bottle of lube, pours more where his hand is wrapped around Jiho’s cock, languid strokes bringing Jiho to a dangerous edge.

 

Has it really been that long? The fact that he can’t remember is probably a clue, but he doesn’t want to think about it right now, not when Daniel is back to straddling him, and lining his body up with the tip of Jiho’s cock.

  


"Fucking hell," Daniel groans as he lowers himself down, brow furrowed. "I mean, I should have known, but I can’t believe you don’t use this more often."

 

The effect he probably wants to give is considerably lessened by how strained his voice is, but at least he's still got one up on Jiho, who can't form coherent thoughts, let alone words, as Daniel clenches tight around him. He holds still for a second and lets Daniel get used to him, watches how the muscles in his thighs work to keep him up as he slides down the entire length of Jiho's cock.

 

Admittedly, right now, Jiho's so overwhelmed that he has no idea what to do, forgetting every single time he's been in this position before. Daniel takes a deep breath, smiles down at him when he exhales.

 

"Do you even _remember_ how to?" His voice is a little shaky, halfway between catching his breath and giggling. "Oh."

 

Jiho squirms, turns to hide his face in the pillow.

 

"Hey! No, no way." Daniel calls for him. "Look at me."

 

Anyone would be hard pressed to deny him.

 

"It's okay. Fuck, you're actually so pure. Who would have thought." Daniel smirks. Jiho feels like a deer in the brightest headlights he's ever seen. "Let me take care of it then, Daddy. I'll show you how good it can be."

 

Jiho barely has time to pick up on the nickname before Daniel lifts his hips up, one smooth movement despite the sweat already beading on his forehead. On instinct, Jiho digs his fingers into Daniel's hips to help him, and he almost loses his grip when gravity pulls them together again. He doesn’t think he can ever go back to after this, not with the way Daniel leans forward to align their bodies better.

 

“Kiss me,” he says, and the way he moves to claim it makes Jiho’s cock twitch inside him. “Hey.”

 

Jiho isn’t given any time to think, and the way Daniel kisses him lets him know that he doesn’t need to. Daniel finds his rhythm soon enough, a hand on Jiho’s chest grounding him as he slides up and down Jiho’s cock, wet slick sounds making Jiho blush so furiously he feels like dunking his head in a bucket of iced water. He can’t remember the other times with nameless, faceless people ever being like this, every nerve ending in his body reacting to the slightest stutter of Daniel’s hips.

 

But then again, the other times weren’t ever like this.

 

It’s intoxicating. It feels like heaven and hell and everything Jiho had denied himself while chasing his never ending dream. It’s beautiful and raw and reaches deep into the ugly parts of his soul to polish them and present them to the world anew.

 

It’s meeting a beautiful boy, and breaking his own rules for him, because he kisses like rain and feels like fire, because when he looks down at Jiho, eyes half-lidded and lips parted, he also looks for his hand against the sheets to hold him to this moment.

 

“You okay?” Daniel breathes, holding still for a moment, Jiho’s cock halfway inside him. “Stay with me.”

 

Jiho doesn’t think he could ever go anywhere else.

 

Daniel straightens back up again, his stomach clenching with the movement, and it relaxes when he sinks back on Jiho’s cock. He bites his lower lip but can’t stop the whine that escapes him, and all the ones after that when he resumes his movement. Everytime Daniel lifts his hips up, Jiho tries to hold him for the inevitable comedown, but he forgets to prepare himself, and every time the ball in his stomach gets tighter, hotter still.

 

“Feel so good…” Jiho hears himself whimper, and he knows he’s already too far gone to care.

 

It’s been a while, but by reflex, animalistic instinct maybe, he thrusts upwards into Daniel when the younger man comes down, and Daniel looks too pleased, too eager even, when he meets Jiho halfway.

 

Nonetheless, he doesn’t stop moving, doesn’t wait for Jiho to catch up with him. Jiho tries to look down at his own cock, to see the way it comes and goes, wet and slick as it disappears ever deeper inside of Daniel, and the sight sends electric shocks through his entire body. His mind’s on fire when Daniel settles on his knees, his movements shorter, faster, working Jiho up just to see the look on his face. It works, of course it does, and Jiho feels his eyes rolling back more than once, everytime Daniel coos at him when he moans and moves with him.  

 

Everything in his line of sight is making Jiho just a little madder by the second. Daniel’s toned stomach, the way his top rides up where it’s sticking to his skin with sweat, the bare line of his neck, the earrings dancing with every movement, his head thrown back as he moans, sweet sounds that fill up Jiho’s mind. He watches as Daniel’s cock bounces with his movements, untouched still, and he wants to remedy that, make Daniel feel as good as he’s feeling right now.

 

Before he can, it’s Jiho’s turn to be concerned, when Daniel can barely lift himself up anymore, his breathing labored and rough. “Come here,” he calls for Daniel, watches as his lover reacts in time, collapses against his chest.

 

“Show me, now,” Daniel laughs as he disentangles himself from Jiho. He pushes his sweat-slicked hair out of his eyes, stretches out against the sheets and then he takes Jiho’s hand. “I trust you.”

 

That’s all Jiho needs to hear. He runs his other hand along Daniel’s thigh, fingers hooking in the bend of his knee to pry his legs open. It’s different to be the one looking down for once, and yet there’s nothing but reverence in the way Jiho slots himself between Daniel’s legs, sneaks a hand under his hips to lift him up. Maybe he’s got this figured out after all, maybe he just needs to listen to the way Daniel mewls when Jiho experimentally pushes a finger inside him, and then two, feeling his way around.

 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ -” Daniel breathes out, his body moving to meet Jiho’s fingers.

 

Jiho replaces them with his cock when it throbs at the way Daniel wordlessly pleads, goes slow until he’s all the way in, surveilling every slight change in Daniel’s body and in his expression, looking out for the right thing to do.

 

Under him, Daniel smiles, reaches up to touch his cheek. “Jiho…” he whispers, and the way his name sounds in Daniel’s mouth makes Jiho screw his eyes shut from how burning hot he feels. “C’mon.”

 

It’s all Jiho needs. He pulls nearly all the way out, swallows hard when Daniel’s hole clenches around the head of his cock. When he snaps his hips forward, the way Daniel nearly comes off the bed to meet him only edges Jiho on further, driving his body into Daniel’s like they’re on an inevitable collision course.

 

Maybe he can retrieve something in the car crash, a beating heart or a lonely soul that finally finds its way.

 

There’s a direct line from his body to Daniel’s and Jiho follows it, listens closely to the way Daniel’s breath hitches every time he pulls away, the way Daniel falls halfway between a moan and a giggle when Jiho thrusts deeper inside him. It’s messy when they kiss, desperate even,  Daniel’s hands roaming the expanse of Jiho’s back as far as he can reach, blunt fingernails dragging along his skin, tracing as many different paths as they can take.

 

“I’m- ah… I can’t believe you deprived the world of this.” The fact that Daniel finds a way to mouth off even when he can barely keep his eyes in focus is terribly endearing to Jiho. “But then, I get to have it all - _ahhh_ \- to myself…”

 

“All for you…” Jiho mumbles against Daniel’s neck, a prayer and a promise.

 

In a rare moment of clarity, Jiho brings a hand up in the bend of Daniel’s knee, makes more space for himself to move. Under him, Daniel is choking on his moans, desperate little pleas that get to Jiho’s head. It’s ‘ _there_ ’ and ‘ _more_ ’ and ‘ _you’re doing so good_ ’, lost in between things they don’t have words for yet.

 

For a second, finally, Jiho loses his grip. Try as he might, he can’t stop the way his thrusts become more erratic, how he gives up control of his body to his instincts. It doesn’t help that Daniel is looking up at him, and he’s smiling, and there’s the whole world there for Jiho to finally discover.

 

Jiho groans and pulls out right as he begins to feel heat pooling in his gut, and he tries his best to catch his breath, feels Daniel’s hands winding into his hair for a brief moment before they fall away.

 

He steals a glance at Daniel, blissed out with his hands on either side of his face, and as his eyes trail further down he sees Daniel’s cock twitching and leaking precome against his stomach.

 

Daniel breathes out, heavily, the corners of his mouth curling upwards as Jiho’s mind races to figure out the best way for both of them to reach the finish line. “You’re allowed to touch-ohh, _fuck!_ ”

 

Thankfully, Jiho knows this now. His hands are shaking but he manages to wrap them around both of their cocks, stroking them together, frantic need building up in the middle of his chest. Daniel pants, a litany of broken moans falling from his lips as Jiho’s hands work, his wrists twisting, thumb brushing over the tip of Daniel’s cock and then of his own, unsure movements that he tries to adapt to the way Daniel reacts, the way his stomach rises and falls.

 

“Jiho, Jiho, _Jiho_..!”

 

In an instant, Daniel’s voice calling and chanting his name pushes Jiho over the edge, and he’s coming, dripping over his hands and down onto Daniel’s stomach, spilling along the line of his abs. He can barely hold it together but composes himself long enough for Daniel to reach his own orgasm, the boy writhing against the sheets as his come mixes with Jiho’s, Daniel’s hands gripping the silk of the pillow covers so tight his knuckles turn white.

 

Slow breaths, one and two and three, let Jiho know that he’s still very much here. Daniel lets go of the fabric and his hand hovers over his stomach, a satisfied expression blooming across his features.

 

“Got your money’s worth?” He jerks his head towards Jiho, lets out a small breathy giggle.

 

Careful not to touch the sheets, Jiho leans back on his elbows next to Daniel, lays a kiss on the boy’s temple. “I might need another go, just to be sure.” He grins when Daniel almost falls for it.

 

“Oh, fuck you!” Daniel pokes his ribs, and Jiho lets himself fall besides his lover for a moment, looking up at the ceiling.

 

The space between them is finite, so Jiho shifts to align his body closer to Daniel’s, their arms touching, bare skin telling the story of a lonely man who fell for a comet.

  
  
  
  


___

 

 

_< <this is the part where you wake up in your clothes again,_

_this is the part where you're trying to stay inside the building._

_stay in the room for now, he says._

_stay in the room for now. >>_

  


Jiho’s untouched stash of promotional bath products, collected over years of dreadfully boring advertising meetings, finally gets its day in the limelight when Daniel finds it.

 

The entire bathroom smells like peach, and, if Jiho were to guess, the apartment probably does too.  He files that under problems that aren’t actually problems, and dips his fingers into the bath where Daniel is sitting in the middle of an ocean of bubbles, eyes closed, a serene smile drawn up on his lips. The water’s lukewarm now, and Jiho just finished rising himself off from his shower, but he still gets inside the bathtub, watches as each of his limbs disappears into peach-scented oblivion.

 

“I should have just given you all of this as a present.” He ogles the half-empty bottle of bubble bath. “Would have saved me money and then some.”

 

Daniel simply hums, maneuvering himself inside the bathtub so he’s sitting between Jiho’s legs, his back to Jiho’s chest. “But then we wouldn’t be here right now, having the best time of our lives,” he states.

 

“Because you would have rejected me for giving such lame presents?” Jiho tries, and Daniel turns his head to frown at him, although the kiss he presses to Jiho’s jaw sends a different message entirely.

 

“Because I definitely would have already used all of it.”

 

Maybe one day, Jiho will understand why Daniel is here with him. For the immediate moment, he just tries to goad Daniel out of his peach fantasy before the two of them turn into prunes. It takes some coaxing, and the promise that there’s an unopened box of artisanal chocolate somewhere in the pantry, but Daniel is eventually lounging on Jiho’s bed, wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of satin pajama bottoms. He looks ridiculous, and Jiho thinks the snobbish designer who gifted him the pajamas in an attempt to get into his latest cover shoot would probably have an aneurysm if they saw him desecrating their piece like that.

 

The thing is, Jiho adores absolutely everything about him, so he truthfully couldn’t care less.

 

“Here.” He hands Daniel a bottle of water and his much coveted chocolate, and then he jumps on the bed too. “Are you… will you stay the night?”

 

This is the part he’s been dreading.

 

“I will if you ask me properly.” Daniel replies from where he’s already settled sideways across the pillows.

 

Jiho takes a breath and holds it for half a second, tries to exhale his doubt along with it. “Do you want to stay the night?”

 

His head is spinning a little when Daniel says, “I would love to.” And then he’s pulling Jiho towards him, the two of them falling in together, Jiho’s head on Daniel’s chest and Daniel’s fingers carding through his hair.

 

“I don’t think we can have private sessions anymore,” Daniel speaks softly into the air. “Conflict of interest.” He smiles as Jiho deflates, pushes him on his back to kiss him flush on the mouth.

 

“Would have thought you’d seen enough of me.” Jiho steals another kiss between words. “After tonight…”

 

A finger presses against his lips to shut him up. “After tonight, you’re taking me out on a date. It’s only fair.” Daniel scrunches up his nose like Jiho’s heart is his playground. He isn’t wrong, but perhaps it’s still a little too early to tell him that.

 

“What happened to caring about me and not my money,” Jiho tries to play. “I thought you simply enjoyed our time together!” He lets a hand fall over his forehead, manages to keep a straight face for two seconds before Daniel puts a hand on his chest, and then he’s gone again.

 

Daniel sits up, his hand still on Jiho’s heart. “About that. I mean, you know I don’t mind if you want to keep… helping me.”

 

Before Daniel can inhale and continue, Jiho mutters, “You deserve it.” And he looks up, finds a smiling face and softer eyes than he’d remembered just a second ago. “But you don’t have to give me anything in return. If you feel like I’m-”

 

“I don’t. I really don’t, otherwise I wouldn’t have accepted anything in the first place,” Daniel blurts out, and it’s so earnest it takes Jiho by surprise, stuns him into silence. “I already told you. I like the time we have together.”

 

He leans back down next to Jiho, hands closing around the fabric of his shirt, a steady grip. In his eyes there’s a sincere call that Jiho can only answer, shifting on his side, pulling Daniel in closer. For now, it’s enough. They can figure each other out later, and the specifics too.

 

Time’s on their side, after all.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> all insert quotes from poems by richard siken
> 
> 1\. road music  
> 2\. landscape with a blur of conquerors  
> 3\. little beast  
> 4 & 5\. snow and dirty rain  
> 6\. the dislocated room
> 
> thank you c. for being a wonderful beta reader ♡


End file.
